Block Shot (Hoops #2)(100)

“There is some myeloma present,” she answers. “But it’s small compared to the big picture, the bigger problem. Amyloidosis often coexists with myeloma, but it’s the one you never get rid of.”

“So it’s incurable?” I ask, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear.

“Incurable, yes,” she says. “But a lot of people are living with it for a long time. Stanford has this video on their site of a man, a doctor, whose condition was advanced, but he’s still alive five years after his diagnosis. Sky diving, performing surgery, living a full life.”

“Stanford? Is that where Zo will receive his treatments?”

She lowers her lashes and scoots off my lap, standing and facing me, hands shoved into her back pockets.

“Yeah, he has to live close to Stanford’s Amyloid Center.” She looks at me, shoulders tense and body held stiffly. “I already found a townhouse really close by. The chemo is slated for three months, so we’ll stay there while he receives treatment.”

She and I stare at each other, letting those words sink in. Words she knew would infuriate me.

“We?” I ask unnecessarily. “You’ll be living with him in Palo Alto for the next three months? Did I hear you right?”

“You did.” Defiance sparks in her eyes. “He has no one, Jared. His family, they’re all gone. He won’t be able to drive himself. Cook for himself. At some point, maybe even bathe himself.”

“Wrong thing to say.” I stand up to pace in front of the couch, driving impatient fingers through my hair. “You bathing Zo is not exactly winning me over to this idea.”

“I don’t have to win you over to it,” she says, gentle, firm. “It has to be this way. You know that.”

She touches my arm and waits for me to look down into the compassion filling her eyes.

“You know me, Jared. You know I would never let him do this alone.”

I cover her hand on my arm and nod my understanding. I mean, come on. The guy is dying. Even I can’t begrudge him that.

“Okay. So you’ll be at Stanford for three months.” I take her hand and pull her into me. “I get that. I don’t like it, but of course I get it. When will we see each other?”

She draws a deep breath, loosens her fingers, and steps back.

“At first Zo was angry with me.” She shakes her head and gnaws on her bottom lip. “Of course he was after what I did.”

“Banner, when will we see each other?” I repeat, ignoring her detour.

“And he didn’t want me there,” she continues. “I literally had to use his contract and force him to let me stay.”

I don’t respond but fold my arms and wait for something I know I won’t like.

“After we got the diagnosis and it was obvious how serious this is,” she says. “Things changed. He knew he needed my help, and he knows I’ll do everything I can to get him all that he needs. He said he would allow me to help him on one condition.”

“A condition?” I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “And what would that be?”

“I have to put things on hold,” she says, her voice soft but steely. “Things with you on hold. Well, he doesn’t know it’s you, but he—”

“The fuck?” The expletive explodes from me before I think to check it. “He can’t make you do that.”

“He’s not making me,” she says, her voice controlled but quaking. “Jared, please don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.”

“Why?” I demand harshly. “Why do you think he made that his one condition, Banner? Don’t you see he wants you back?”

“Yes.” She looks at me unblinkingly. “He told me that.”

“Oh, he did? What exactly did he say?”

“He said he wants to fight for me, but he has to fight for his life right now and he can’t do both.”

Motherfucker. What am I supposed to do with that?

“He said that he wants a fair fight.” She releases a heavy breath. “And an even playing field, and he can’t have that while he’s sick.”

She already knows this is some shit.

“And I’m supposed to sit by patiently and wait while you live with him for the next three months?” I ask, swallowing down my rage and frustration. Struggling to appear reasonable. “That’s how you see this happening?”

She runs a shaking hand over the hair I loosened when we kissed.

“I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jared,” she says wearily. “I know that. I understand it’s a long time and you have . . . needs. I get that and wouldn’t blame you for saying we’re done. For finding someone else.”

Finding someone else? The hell?

What she doesn’t seem to realize is there isn’t anyone else. I’ve tried all the “someone elses” and none of them simultaneously drive me wild and settle me inside the way Banner does.

“I didn’t mean that I would find someone else.” I hold her chin between two fingers and palm the curve of her waist. “I meant we’ll see how long you last without me.”

A slow smile dawns on her face with her realization, but it’s a sun that sets before it fully rises. She frowns up at me and shakes her head.